3:56am. Still awake. Actually, I cannot sleep anymore. I haven’t sleep since… well since you know. Since I have to be alone in bed. I take a nap, sometimes during the day, but never more than 20 minutes, ‘cause, every time I fall asleep, I wake up and hope you’ll be there. But you’re not.Every time I fall asleep, I dream of you, and I; together and happy. I dream of this amazing trip to Paris we made a couple of months ago. I can see the smile on your face, without havin’ to try; it’s in every cell of my brain, of my heart, of my whole body. Suddenly, it’s getting all dark, and you disappear. And then I wake up. Shakin’ from head to toe, scared. I wish you’re here, to tell me it’s okay and just take me in your arms. But, you’re not. I start to cry like a baby, wishin’ someone’s gonna come around, and just try to calm me down. But, there’s no one around. So, I try not to fall asleep. I try, and I fail.

3:57am. I’m there. Sitting on our bed. Wearing one of your sweaters on my shorts. In the dark. Crying. Worst part of it? I’ve been acting like this for something like 3 weeks now. I miss you so much. In the morning, when you’re not here kissing my forehead. When I’m alone in the kitchen for breakfast. When I’m alone in front in the mirror, brushing my teeth. When I go to bed, at night, alone. Alone. Forever alone now. I’m so desperate, I feel so useless now. Every single time my engagement ring caught my eyes, I can’t help but cry. Actually, I can’t help but cry every time I saw something that reminds me of you. And, it happens a lot actually, ‘cause I’m stuck here, in your apartment. Going out, facing life without you? Sounds impossible. I bite my lips, and I like the fact that it hurts. Like, it really hurts. It’s physical, not psychological. And, I need to feel I’m alive, and hurt myself physically.

4:03am. I can’t stay there any longer. On my way to the living room, I’m surprised. I’m not alone. I mean, I’m not the only one up. He’s there, sitting on the sofa, with the TV on, but the sound turned off. It’s weird, because, for once, it feels good to know there’s someone around. I hate to rush into him during the day, don’t ask me why. It’s harder, because, we’re used to have some cute fights, but, it’s not like, I know him deep enough to just try to be his friend, or something like this I guess. I just don’t want to face him and let him know I’m slowly dyin’, even though I’m pretty sure he knows it. I realize I stopped, tryin’ to figure out what to do, or what to say. And I’m still undecided. He’s not movin’, and I can see his face as his head rests on the top of the back part. His eyes are closed, and I’m not sure if he’s sleeping or not. I dunno. I don’t care. I reach the couch, and sit on it, tryin’ not to scare hum by makin” too much noise. Both my legs on the couch, against my chest, something like ten inches away from him, I bite my lips, and just poke him softly on the arm. “Hey, Anders?.... Ya sleeping or not?” I hope he’s not, ‘cause, I don’t wanna go back to my room, and I don’t feel like stay here with sleepy Anders. I just need to know I’m not alone. We don’t need to speak. I just need to know there’s someone around tonight, someone who’s goin’ through the same shit as me.

3:56am boredom fuels my demons quicker than you think it would take to throw me off my edge. it’s a flood of thoughts coming all at once and the flow is overwhelming to the point where i barely can stand it. i know there’s some kind of gate, here, in my mind...but lately i’m having a hard time keeping it close. usually there’s two ways of locking leviathan in. first is to keep myself busy enought, second is to stun myself. i chose the latter and spaced myself out beyond all understanding. a mix of weed alcohol and vicodin. needless to say, painkillers do nothing to ease the pain.

3:57am what am i looking at ? i don’t know...you tell me. don’t let your senses fool you. seing things doesn mean that i’m actually watching. it’s like hearing... it’s not like i’m listening. it’s not like i understand and let alone care, for that matter. i have no fucking idea what’s going on TV, but it’s on and i’m on the couch staring at absolutly nothing. my hand reaches for the remote control, i know there’s a mute button to it but i’d rather turn the volume all the way down to shut the fucking thing up. i like that word...mute. «mute» goes deeper than «silence». let’s put it that way: silence means there’s nothing to hear. mute means that you’ve decided that you didn’t want to hear and deal with more bullshit than what’s allready going on inside your own head.

4:03am hadhès. what part of do not disturb wasn’t clear to you when you found me eyes closed on the sofa ? i can’t. i really can’t stand this bitch. see...as long as there’s just me reflecting on some of the most fucked up decisions i’ve made my entire life it’s a fair fight within, and i can just act over it and trick myself into thinking that i am. but whenever my eyes meet hers, or whenever i hear her cries it’s like a knife in the back, for what i spend so much time hiding from my face writes itself all over hers. my second favorite word: GRIEF. i’m broken. the scar is still painfull and since he’s gone i’m sinking into depth of pain you can’t even fathom.

i know exactly what she’s doing. the least you can say is that we never really paid attention to each other. i made it clear enought that i wanted to take care of my mess all by myself like the selfish piece of shit i am. and that’s ok, because she’s selfish too. she’s afraid of the dark so she’s looking for a hand to hold. what if i’m scared as well ? not her problem. it’s called downward spiralling: draging each other down until we reach rock bottom. take hold of my hand for you are no longer alone, bla bla...the kind of shit i knew would happen at some point because thoughts follow a pattern, and the damn thing is on repeat.

i could hear steps as she made her way to the livingroom. and i could feel her when she sat down close to me. i didn’t mind until close turned into actual pysical contact of some sort, while she proceeded to smoothly get me out of my narcotic-assisted mind control over myself, which she broke, by switching all of my sences back on. i could even tell that her skin smelled of a fragrance that i would call «wander» if it was an actual perfume. she’s obviously lost and entering her last-resort-to-desperation stage. i look at her and then release her wrist that i had suddenly grabbed when she poked me. i didn’t even realise what i was doing, my critically short temper only leaving me so much time to think straight or breath to whisper to her:

... don't.

do that ever again. seriously don’t. touch me-look at me-talk to me...whatever it is that your thinking. why don’t you just sit there and watch me get high, sleep or bleed all you want, chances are that in a short amount of time i’ll be able to total eclipse your existence out of my vicinity. i place a finger on my mona lisa smile at her, and close my eyes.

There’s a reason I don’t know him actually, and he just remembered me why. He’s so hard to approach, from the inside I mean. Because, we all know what the guy is capable of when it comes to girls or just get into a fight. I’m not gonna blame him anyway, ‘cause it’s none of my business, and, the only reason he’s here with me tonight is because we share the same apartment. I don’t need more than “someone”, like a random someone to be around, but I’m a lil’ bit pissed that he thought he was able to just catch my wrist like it’s was okay. But I don’t say anything, and just try to figure out what the fuck was on his mind. Don’t? dude, don’t you think it’s a lil’ bit too late to ask me –or order me- to back off? Seriously? And now you’re smiling and standing out for silence?

Go on, and take it. Take it all. Silence is about to be all yours dude, because, I truly don’t care about being here, in the dark with you. You’ll learn soon enough that I’m stubborn, probably more than you thought. You’ll also learn I don’t like to give up, but, that’s something different. Go on, just close your eyes, and pray for me to just evaporate from your eyesight.

I feel tense, but I need to relax, ‘cause, it’s not helping. He wants calm, silence. Why? Because he doesn’t want to face it? Because he doesn’t want to face me? Fair enough, ‘cause I don’t wanna face him either. I let myself fall against the back of the sofa, my cheek reaching the cold material of the shit we’re sitting on. Pulling my legs under the sweater, my arms around them; staring at his face lightened by the weak light of the television. I take a brief look at what’s on: Make it or Break it. Quite funny. Especially when you know the show is a pure drama with teenagers. Anyway, Miss Lauren is there, performing her routine, and the girl is kind of boring without sound.

My routine is about to start, as my eyes stop again right to his face, and the guy is still. Eyes closed, tryin’ to listen to silence or something like that, both his hands on his stomach, without a move, not even the move of a breath in his ribcage. DAMN; that’s impressing. He looks like our dear and beloved Queen Elizabeth when she’s looking her guard marches past during Trooping the Colour. Except that she actually has her eyes wide open.

Anyways. I’m looking at him, and I wish I could see what’s going on in his mind, you know, with an actual bubble speech drawn on his brain like in the cartoons. It’s disturbing, but, he asked for silence, so, I’m tryin’ to get it, silently.

It’s pathetic. The apartment has never been that silent over the two years I’ve been living there. And once again, the only person missing is him. He is the reason we’re here; first because, he took me there to live in with them. And I guess it was the same for Anders in a first place. Second, because he’s dead, and there’s nothing to ease the pain, and I thought being here and try to make it easier with Anders was one of the worst idea I ever had. It’s obvious that, even though we sharing the same place, and the same feelings about my late love, we’ll never be able a simple conversation or something as insignificant. We hate each other. That’s a fact. I hate him, because, I know he hates me, because I hate him, and we can keep going on this way as long as we want. How long am I gonna stay here and stare at him? I don’t know actually. It’ll probably take as long as I get bored, or fall asleep I guess. How long will he stay there, paralyze, in total denial of what’s going on around? Probably as long as it’ll take for me to get bored or fall asleep. A while? Let’s say: forever.